Evening Star
by 4thHorseman
Summary: What seems like an ordinary day for Edythe Cullen turns out to be anything but. For the newest transfer, the intelligent, daring, and mysterious Beaufort Swan, will change her life forever. What secrets is he hiding? Can she resist his intoxicating scent and find out who he truly is? And what will she do when she uncovers the truth?


Evening Star

Good and Evil

A/N – _Hello, reader, and welcome to my second Twilight story, which is a companion story to the first,_ Twilight Recalibrated _. This one is written from Edythe's point of view, and, as you may have guessed, is based on Midnight Sun. That's probably an understatement – though the characters are gender-swapped (obviously) and I changed Edythe's internal monologue to be somewhat more entertaining, the story is essentially the same, except for Beau being a completely different (and in my not-so-humble opinion, much more interesting) character. All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer. Have fun_!

This was the time of day when I wished I could sleep.

High school. I liked to think of it as purgatory; if there _was_ any way to atone for my sins, this had to count in some way. I amused myself imagining telling a priest about it as my act of contrition, but it was only a temporary diversion. The tedium was not something I grew used to; every day seemed more impossibly monotonous than the last.

It was sleep, in a way; my mind certainly wasn't very active.

I stared at the cracks running through the plaster in the far corner of the cafeteria, imagining patterns into them that were not there. It was one way to tune out the voices that babbled like the gush of a river inside my head.

Several hundred of these voices I ignored out of boredom.

When it came to the human mind, I'd heard it all before and then some. Today, all thoughts were consumed with the trivial drama of a new addition to the small student body here. It took so little to work them all up. I'd seen the new face repeated in thought after thought from every angle. Just an ordinary human boy. The excitement over his arrival was tiresomely predictable – like offering candy to a child. Many of the airheaded females were already imagining themselves with him, just because he was something new to look at. I tried harder to tune them out.

Only four voices did I block out of courtesy rather than distaste; my family, my two brothers and two sisters, who were so used to the lack of privacy in my presence that they rarely gave it a thought. I gave them what privacy I could. I tried not to listen if I could help it.

Try as I may, still … I knew.

Royal was thinking, as usual, about himself. He'd noticed one of the more attractive females gawking at him as he walked by, which he was still contemplating with a smug, self-satisfied smile. Royal had always been a shallow individual, and today was no exception.

Eleanor was fuming over a wrestling match she'd lost to Jessamine during the night. It would take all of her limited patience to make it to the end of the school day to orchestrate a rematch. I never really felt intrusive hearing Eleanor's thoughts, because she never thought one thing that she would not say aloud or put into action. Perhaps I only felt guilty reading the others' minds because I knew there were things there that they wouldn't want me to know. If Royal's mind was that of a shallow, self-obsessed individual, then Eleanor's mind was that of someone with nothing to hide.

And Jessamine was … suffering. I suppressed a sigh.

 _Edythe_. Archie called my name in his head, and had my attention at once.

It was just the same as having my name called aloud. I was glad my given name had never exactly been popular – while Edith was not uncommon, Edythe was rare enough that if I heard the name in someone's mind, the person in question was almost certainly thinking about me.

My head didn't turn now. Archie and I were good at these private conversations. It was rare for anyone to catch us. I kept my eyes on the lines in the plaster.

 _How's she holding up_? he asked me, trying to sound casual, but I wasn't fooled.

I frowned, just a small change in the set of my mouth. Nothing that would tip the others off, who would probably interpret it as a sign of boredom.

Archie's mental tone was worried now, and I saw in his mind that he was watching Jessamine in his peripheral vision. _Is there any danger_? He searched ahead, into the immediate future, skimming through visions of monotony for the source behind my frown.

I turned my head slowly to the left, as if looking at the bricks of the wall, sighed, and then to the right, back to the cracks in the ceiling. Only he knew I was shaking my head.

Archie relaxed. _Let me know if it gets too bad_.

I moved only my eyes, up to the ceiling above, and back down.

 _Thanks for doing this_.

I was glad I couldn't answer him out loud. What would I say? 'My pleasure'? Hardly; I didn't enjoy listening to Jessamine's struggles, nor, I imagine, would anyone else. Was it really necessary to experiment like this? Wouldn't the safer path be to just admit that she might never be able to handle the thirst the way the rest of us could, and not push her limits? Why flirt with disaster?

It had been two weeks since our last hunting trip. That was not an immensely difficult time span for the rest of us. A little uncomfortable occasionally – if a human walked too close, if the wind blew the wrong way. But humans rarely walked too close. Their instincts told them what their conscious minds would never understand: we were dangerous.

Jessamine was very dangerous right now.

At that moment, a small boy paused at the end of the closest table to ours, stopping to talk to a friend. He laughed and semiconsciously combed through his short, sandy hair. The heaters blew his scent in our direction. I was used to the way that scent made me feel – the dry ache in my throat, the hollow yearn in my stomach, the automatic tightening of my muscles, the excess flow of venom in my mouth …

This was all quite normal, usually easy to ignore. It was harder just now, with the feelings stronger, doubled, as I monitored Jessamine's reaction. Twin thirsts, rather than just mine.

Jessamine was letting his imagination get away from her. She was picturing it – picturing herself getting up from her seat next to Archie and going to stand beside the boy. Thinking of leaning down and in, as if she were going to whisper in his ear, and letting her lips touch the arch of his throat, knowing how excited it would make him feel. Imagining how the hot flow of his pulse beneath the fine skin would feel under her mouth …

I kicked her chair.

She met my gaze for a minute, and then looked down. I could hear shame and rebellion war in her head.

"Sorry," Jessamine muttered.

I shrugged.

"You weren't going to do anything," Archie assured her, trying to sound lighthearted.

I fought back the grimace that would give his lie away. We had to stick together, Archie and I. It wasn't easy, hearing voices or seeing visions of the future. Both freaks among those who were already freaks.

"It helps a little if you think of them as people," Archie suggested, his tenor voice too fast for human ears to understand, if any had been close enough to hear. "His name is Clark. He has a brother he's always taking care of. His mother invited Carine to that garden party, remember?"

"I know who he is," Jessamine said curtly. She turned away to stare out one of the small windows that were spaced just under the eaves around the long room. Her tone ended the conversation.

She would have to hunt tonight. It was ridiculous to take risks like this, trying to test her strength, to build her endurance. Jessamine needed to accept her limitations and work within them. Her former habits were not conducive to our chosen lifestyle; she shouldn't push herself in this way.

Archie sighed and stood, taking his tray of food – his prop, as it were – with him and leaving her alone. He knew when she'd had enough of his encouragement. Though Royal and Eleanor were more flagrant about their relationship, it was Archie and Jessamine who knew each other's every mood as well as their own. As if they could read their minds, too – only just each other's.

 _Edythe Cullen._

Reflex reaction. I turned to the sound of my name being called, though it wasn't being called, just thought.

My eyes locked for a small portion of a second with a pair of wide, light-blue human eyes set in a narrow, suntanned face. I knew the face, though I'd never seen it myself before this moment. It had been foremost in every human head today. The new student, Beaufort Swan. Son of the town's chief of police, brought to live here by some new custody situation. Beaufort. He'd corrected everyone who'd used his full name, not that I could blame him…

I looked away, bored. It took me a second to realize that he had not been the one to think my name.

 _Of course he's already fantasizing over them_ , I heard the first thought continue.

Now I recognized the 'voice.' Jeremy Stanley – it had been a while since he'd bothered me with his internal chatter. What a relief it had been when he'd gotten overhis misplaced infatuation. It used to be nearly impossible to escape his lurid, repulsive daydreams. I'd wished, at the time, that I could explain to him exactly what would have happened if my lips, and the teeth behind them, had gotten anywhere near him. That would have silenced those sick fantasies. The thought of his reaction almost made me smile.

 _Like he has a chance_ , Jeremy went on. _He's not ugly, but they're way out of his league. And why is Erica staring at him so much… oh, God, not McKayla too_ …

He winced mentally on the last name. His new infatuation, the beautiful and popular McKayla Newton, was completely oblivious to him. Apparently she was not as oblivious to the new boy. Like a cat with a yarn ball. This put a mean edge to Jeremy's thoughts, though he was outwardly cordial to the newcomer as he explained to him the commonly held knowledge about my family. The new student must have asked about us.

 _They've all been looking at me too_ , Jeremy thought smugly in an aside. _Isn't it lucky Beau had two classes with me… I'll be the one showing_ him _the ropes_ …

I tried to block the inane chatter out of my head before his petty, trivial thoughts drove me mad.

"Jeremy Stanley is giving the new Swan kid all the dirty laundry on the Cullen clan," I murmured to Eleanor as a distraction.

She chuckled under her breath. _I hope he's making it good_ , she thought

"Rather unimaginative, actually, though I'm not surprised. It is Jeremy, after all."

She chuckled again. _And the new kid? Is he disappointed in the gossip as well_?

I listened to hear what this new boy, Beau, thought of Jeremy's story. What did he see when he looked at the strange, chalky-skinned family that was universally avoided?

It was sort of my responsibility to know his reaction. I acted as a sort of lookout for my family. If anyone ever grew suspicious, I could give us early warning and an easy retreat. It happened occasionally – some human with an overactive imagination would see in us the characters of a book or a movie. Usually they got it wrong, but it was better to move on somewhere new rather than risk scrutiny.

Very rarely, someone would guess right. We didn't give them a chance to test their theory. We simply disappeared, to become no more than a frightening memory…

I heard nothing, though I listened close beside where Jeremy's frivolous internal monologue continued to gush. It was as if there was no one sitting beside him. How strange… had the boy moved? That didn't seem likely, since Jeremy was still babbling. I looked up to check, feeling off-balance. Checking on what my extra 'hearing' could tell me – it wasn't something I ever had to do.

Again, my gaze locked on those same blue eyes. He was sitting right where he had been before, and looking at us, a natural thing to be doing, since Jeremy was still regaling him with the local gossip about the Cullens.

Thinking about us, too, would be natural.

But I couldn't hear a whisper.

He looked away, pretending not to be interested, but I could see in his eyes that we'd made quite an impression on him. I saw surprise and … fascination? It wouldn't be the first time. We were beautiful to them, our intended prey. He continued to look at us out of the corner of his eye, apparently believing that he went unnoticed.

And yet, though his thoughts had been clear in his odd blue eyes – odd, because blue eyes typically appeared shallow, with nothing to hide – I could hear nothing but silence from the place she was sitting. Nothing at all.

I felt a moment of unease.

This was nothing I'd ever encountered before. Was there something wrong with me? I felt exactly the same as I always did. Worried, I listened harder.

All the voices I'd been blocking were suddenly shouting in my head.

… _wonder what music he likes…maybe I could mention that new CD_ … McKayla Newton was thinking, two tables away, fixated on Beau Swan.

 _Look at her staring at him_. _Isn't it enough that she has almost all the guys in school in school who aren't gay waiting for her to_ … Erica Yorkie was thinking sulfurous thoughts, also revolving around the boy.

… _so disgusting. You'd think he was Elvis…. Even Edythe is staring_ … Logan Mallory was so jealous that his face, by all rights, should be dark jade in color. _And Jeremy, acting like his new best friend is all that_. _What a joke_ ... Vitriol continued to spew from the boy's thoughts.

… _I bet everyone has asked him that already. But I'd like to talk to him_ …. Ashley Dowling mused.

… _tons left to do tonight! Trig, and the English test. I hope my mom_ …Allen Weber, a quiet kid, whose thoughts were unusually kind, was the only one at the table who wasn't obsessed with this Beau.

I could hear them all, hear every insignificant thing they were thinking as it passed through their minds. But nothing at all from the new student with the deceptively communicative eyes.

And of course, I could hear what the boy said when he spoke to Jeremy. I didn't have to read minds to be able to hear his low, clear voice on the far side of the long room.

He spoke to Jeremy about the day/night cycle in the northernmost regions of Alaska. "In Kiruna, Sweden, for example, night lasts almost 28 days during the winter, and the day lasts almost fifty," I heard him say.

I suppressed the urge to smile. Our family had actually traveled to Kiruna on several occasions. The boy seemed surprisingly well-informed. But it did not help me pinpoint the tone of his thoughts. His quiet yet confident voice was unfamiliar, not one of the hundreds of thoughts bouncing around the room, I was sure of that. Entirely new.

 _He's like a walking encyclopedia._ Jeremy thought before replying. "Wow. I'd go crazy living in a place like that." _He certainly seems to have gotten over her. Probably for the best_ ; _he'd never have a chance with her_.

I turned my head away to hide my smile. Jeremy and his classmates had no idea how lucky they were that none of them particularly appealed to me.

This boy was so unlike the rest … probably more intelligent, but also – I couldn't put a finger on it, exactly, but it seemed as if he were hiding something, something he didn't want anyone to see no matter what. And yet he seemed so confident and determined, it was difficult to believe he was even bothering to conceal himself.

It was interesting, I had to admit, to see him make conversation with strangers, always informing them of some random scientific or historical fact, and hearing their response. They were almost invariably taken aback by his seemingly endless knowledge on just about everything, and they were never able to keep up with him. A few merely pretended to be interested, but most were fascinated by what he had to say. And yet I could only imagine what was really going on in his mind. Why couldn't I hear him?

"You ready?" Royal murmured, interrupting my focus.

I looked away from the boy with a sense of relief. I didn't want to continue to fail at this – it irritated me. And I didn't want to develop any interest in his hidden thoughts – the more I thought about it, the more obsessed I would become. And besides, how interesting could his mind be? He was just some nerd who liked showing off how much he knew. In any case, I highly doubted he knew more than I did, though I suppose it wasn't fair to compare.

"So, is he afraid of us yet?" Eleanor asked, still waiting for my response to her question before.

I shrugged. She wasn't interested enough to press for more information. Nor should I be interested. All humans were the same, more or less.

We got up from the table and walked out of the cafeteria.

Eleanor, Royal, and Jessamine were pretending to be seniors; they left for their classes. I was playing a younger role than them. I headed off for my junior level biology class, preparing my mind for the tedium. It was doubtful Mrs. Banner, a woman of no more than average intellect, would manage to pull out anything in her lecture that would surprise someone holding two graduate degrees in medicine.

In the classroom, I settled into my chair and let my books – props, again; they held nothing I didn't already know – spill across the table. I was the only student who had a table to herself. The humans weren't smart enough to _know_ that they feared me, but their survival instincts were enough to keep them away.

The room slowly filled as they trickled in from lunch. I leaned back in my chair and waited for the time to pass. Again, I wished I was able to sleep.

Allen Weber escorted the new boy through the door, though the boy appeared to let him do so out of politeness.

 _He seems so self-assured, yet it's barely his first day. I wish I could be more like him. Maybe I could ask him for advice… no, that would be too embarrassing_ …

 _Yes_! McKayla Newton thought, turning in her seat to watch the boys enter.

Still, from the place where Beau Swan stood, nothing. The empty space where his thoughts should be irritated and unnerved me.

He came closer, walking down the aisle beside me to get to the teacher's desk. Unfortunately for him, he would have to sit beside me; no other seats were available. Automatically, I cleared what would be his side of the desk, shoving my books into a pile. I doubted he would feel very comfortable there. He was in for a long semester – in this class, at least. But maybe, sitting beside him, I'd be able to flush out his secrets … not that I'd ever needed close proximity before … or that I'd find anything worth listening to…

Beau Swan walked into the flow of the heated air that blew toward me from the vent.

His scent hit me like a wrecking ball, like a battering ram. No, there was no image violent enough to encapsulate the force of what happened to me in that moment.

In that instant, I was nothing close to the human I'd once been and still pretended to be.

I was a predator. He was my prey. There was nothing else in the world but that truth.

There was no room full of witnesses – they were already collateral damage in my head. The mystery of his thoughts was forgotten. His thoughts meant nothing, for he would not go on thinking them much longer.

I was a vampire, and he had the sweetest blood I'd smelled in eighty years.

I hadn't imagined such a scent could exist. If I'd known it did, I would have gone searching for it long ago. I would have combed the planet for him. I could imagine the taste …

Thirst burned through my throat like fire. My mouth was baked and desiccated. The fresh flow of venom did nothing to dispel that sensation. My stomach twisted with the hunger that was an echo of the thirst. My muscles coiled to spring.

Not a full second had passed. He was still taking the same step that had put him downwind from me.

As his foot touched the ground, his eyes slid toward me, a movement he clearly meant to be stealthy. His glance met mine, and I saw myself reflected in the wide mirror of his eyes.

The shock of the face I saw there saved his life for a few thorny moments.

And then, to my utter surprise, he spoke. "Can I help you?" he asked me, his voice calm and collected.

No, I thought angrily, and turned away from his penetrating stare. You cannot help me. You can't even help yourself.

I dimly heard someone make an "oooh" sound in the back of the room, likely in response to Beau's challenge. As if Beau could possibly win in a fight against me. But they couldn't know, of course.

I tried to focus on the face I'd seen in his eyes, a face I recognized with revulsion. The face of the monster in me – the face I'd beaten back with decades of effort and uncompromising discipline. How easily it came back now!

The scent swirled around me again, scattering my thoughts and nearly propelling me out of my seat.

No.

My hand gripped under the edge of the table as I tried to hold myself in my chair. The wood was not up to the task. My hand crushed through the strut and came away with a palm full of splintered pulp, leaving the shape of my fingers carved into the remaining wood.

Destroy evidence. That was a fundamental rule. I quickly pulverized the edges of the shape with my fingertips, leaving nothing but a ragged hole and a pile of shavings on the floor, which I scattered with my foot.

Destroy evidence. Collateral damage…

I knew what had to happen now. The boy would have to come sit beside me, and I would have to kill him.

The innocent bystanders in this classroom, eighteen other children and one man, could not be allowed to leave this room, having seen what they would soon see.

I flinched at the thought of what I must do. Even at my very worst, I had never committed this kind of atrocity. I had never killed innocents, not in nearly ninety years of existence. And now I planned to slaughter twenty of them at once.

The face of the monster in the mirror mocked me.

Even as part of me shuddered away from the monster, another part of me was planning it.

If I killed the boy first, I would have only fifteen or twenty seconds with him before the humans in the room would react. Maybe a little longer, if at first they didn't realize what I was doing. He would not have time to scream or feel pain; I would not be cruel. That much I could give this stranger with his horribly desirable blood.

But then I would have to stop them from escaping. I wouldn't have to worry about the windows, too high up and small to provide an escape for anyone. Just the door – block that and they'd be trapped.

It would be slower and more difficult, trying to take them all down when they were panicked and scrambling, moving in chaos. Not impossible, but there would be much more noise, and plenty of screaming. Someone would hear … and I'd be forced to kill even more innocents in this black hour.

And his blood would cool, while I murdered the others.

The scent punished me, closing my throat with dry aching…

So the witnesses first then.

I mapped it out in my head. I was in the middle of the room, the furthest row in the back. I would take my right side first. I could kill four or five of them per second, I estimated. It would not be noisy. The right side would be the lucky side; they would not see me coming. Moving around the front and back up the left side, it would take me, at most, five seconds to end every life in this room.

Long enough for Beau Swan to see, briefly, what was coming for him. Long enough for him to feel fear. Long enough, maybe, if shock didn't freeze him in place, for him to scream. But it would make no difference.

I took a deep breath, and the scent was a fire that raced through my dry veins, burning out from my chest to consume every better impulse that I was capable of.

He was just turning now. In a few seconds, he would sit down inches away from me.

The monster in my head smiled in anticipation.

Someone slammed shut a folder on my left. I didn't look up to see who it was; they were already dead anyway. But the motion sent a wave of ordinary, unscented air wafting across my face.

For one short second, I was able to think clearly. In that second, I saw two faces in my head, side by side.

One was mine, or had been: the red-eyed monster that had killed and fed on so many people that I'd stopped counting their numbers. Rationalized, justified murders. They were murderers as well, and though I acknowledged that it was a god complex – deciding who deserved to live or die – I'd been able to convince myself that my victims had it coming.

The other face was Carine's.

There was no resemblance between the two faces. They were bright day and blackest night.

There was no reason why they should have anything in common. Carine was not my biological mother, and we shared no common features apart from our pale skin color (which all vampires had) and our eyes – a reflection of a mutual choice.

And yet, though there was no basis for a resemblance, I'd imagined that my face had begun to reflect her, to an extent, in the last seventy-odd years that I had embraced her choice and followed in her steps. My features had not changed, but it seemed to me like some of her wisdom had marked my expression, that a little of her compassion could be traced in the shape of my mouth, and hints of her patience were evident on my brow.

All those tiny improvements were lost in the face of the monster. In a few moments, there would be nothing left in me that would reflect the years I'd spent with my creator, my mentor, my mother in all the ways that counted. My eyes would glow red as a devil's; all likeness would be lost forever.

In my head, Carine's kind eyes did not judge me. I knew that she would eventually forgive me for what I was about to do. Because she loved me. Because she thought that I was better than I was. And she would still love me, even as I now proved her wrong.

Beau Swan sat down in the chair next to me, his movements slow but steady, and the scent of his blood bloomed in an inexorable cloud around me.

I would prove my mother wrong about me. The misery of this fact hurt almost as much as the fire in my throat.

I leaned away from him in revulsion – revolted by the monster aching to take him.

Why did he have to come here? Why did he have to exist? Why did he have to ruin the little peace I had in this non-life of mine? Why had this aggravating, arrogant human ever been born? He would ruin me.

I turned my face away from him, as a sudden fierce, unreasoning hatred washed through me.

Who _was_ this creature? Why me, why now? Why did I have to lose everything just because he happened to choose this unlikely town to appear in?

Why had he come here?

I didn't want to be the monster! I didn't want to kill this room full of innocent people, people with their entire lives ahead of them, with families that would be destroyed by their loss! I didn't want to lose everything I'd gained in a lifetime of sacrifice and denial!

I wouldn't. He couldn't make me.

The scent was the problem, the hideously appealing scent of his blood. If there was only some way to resist … if only another gust of fresh air could clear my head.

And then he spoke again. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, his voice seemingly unperturbed.

I was amazed – he didn't seem to be afraid of me at all. For a brief moment I forgot about the monster as I contemplated his reaction. Did he truly feel no fear, or was he simply extraordinarily good at hiding it? He could not possibly know of the danger he was in, yet I'd expected (hoped, even) that he would at least show some measure of apprehension when he saw me, but I saw nothing. I was almost thankful; even a momentary diversion kept the monster at bay.

But I could not remain distracted for long. The monster came back with a vengeance, invigorated by his scent.

Then I finally remembered; I didn't have to breathe.

I stopped the flow of air through my lungs; the relief was instantaneous, but incomplete. I still had the memory of the scent in my head, the taste of it on the back of my tongue. I wouldn't be able to resist even that for long. But perhaps I could resist for an hour. One hour. Just enough time to get out of this room full of victims, victims that maybe didn't have to be victims. If I could resist for one short hour.

It was an uncomfortable feeling, not breathing. My body did not need oxygen, but it went against my instincts. I relied on scent more than my other senses in times of stress. I used it both for hunting and detecting potential threats.

Uncomfortable, but manageable. More bearable than smelling him and not sinking my teeth through that warm, sunbathed skin to the hot, wet, pulsing –

An hour! Just one hour. I had to avoid thinking of the scent, the taste.

The silent boy was working intently on a mathematical proof, seemingly unaware of my presence. I so desperately wished I could be in his place – oblivious to any danger, In that instant I hated him, hated him with all the fervor with which I clung to my former self, my love of my family, my dreams of being something better than what I was. It wasn't fair that I was so desperately fighting the monster while he was sitting in his chair comfortably working on a math problem, unaware of the battle raging in my head.

Hating him, hating how he made me feel – it helped a little. Yes, the irritation I'd felt before was weak, but it too, helped a little. I clung to any emotion that distracted me from imagining what he would _taste_ like…

Hate and irritation. Impatience. Would the hour never pass?

And when the hour ended … Then he would walk out of this room. And I would do what?

I could introduce myself. _Hello, my name is Edythe Cullen. May I walk you to your next clas_ s?

He would say yes, out of curiosity if nothing else. The fact that he didn't seem to fear me would simply make things easier. But would I succeed in fooling him? He didn't seem like someone who was particularly trusting; he would likely grow suspicious if I led him anywhere else, and possibly even decide to go to class by himself …

But it didn't matter. He would go home to an empty house. Police Chief Swan worked a full day. I knew his house and every other in this small town. His home was nestled right up against thick woods, with no close neighbors. Even if he had time to scream, which he would not, there would be no one to hear.

That would be the responsible way to deal with this. I'd gone seven decades without human blood. If I held my breath, I could last two hours. And when I had him alone, there would be no chance of anyone else getting hurt. _And no reason to rush through the experience_ , the monster in my head agreed.

It was sophistry to think that by saving the nineteen humans in this room with effort and patience, I would be less a monster when I killed this innocent boy.

Though I hated him, I knew my hatred was unjust. I knew that what I really hated was myself. And I would hate myself so much more when he was dead.

I made it through the hour in this way – imagining the best ways to kill him. I tried to avoid imagining the actual _act_. That might be too much; I could lose this battle and end up killing everyone in sight. So I planned strategy, and nothing more. It carried me through the hour.

Near the end of the class, I caught him glancing at me as he gave me a graded quiz from the week before. I could feel the unjustified hatred burning out of me as I met his gaze – see the reflection of it in his eyes, but he was unfazed. In fact, for a moment I saw a flicker of contempt there, but it quickly disappeared, and he turned away. How easy it must be for him, to assume I was just some lunatic. If only he knew what was really at stake. The monster in me considered killing him out of pure anger, unwilling to tolerate being mocked.

But the bell rang. Saved by the bell – how appropriate. We were both saved; him, from death, and I, from being the nightmarish creature I feared and loathed.

I couldn't walk as slowly as I should as I darted from the room. If anyone had been looking at me, they might have suspected that there was something not right about the way I moved, but no one was paying attention. All human thoughts still swirled around the boy who was condemned to die in little more than an hour's time.

I hid in my car.

I despised the thought of having to hide – it was such a cowardly thing to do. But it was unquestionably the case now.

I didn't have enough discipline left to be around humans. Focusing so much of my efforts on not killing _one_ of them left me no resources to resist the others. That would be such a waste. If I gave in to the monster, I should at least make it worth the defeat.

I played a CD of music that usually calmed me, but it did little for me now. No, what helped most now was the cool, wet, clean air that drifted with the light rain through my open windows. Though I could remember the scent of Beau Swan's blood with perfect clarity, inhaling the clean air was like washing out the inside of my body from its taint.

I was sane again. I could think again. And maybe, just maybe, my better nature could prevail.

I didn't have to go to his home. I didn't have to kill him. Obviously, I was a rational, thinking creature, and I had a choice. There was always a choice.

It hadn't felt that way in the classroom … but I was away from him now. Perhaps, if I avoided him very, very carefully, there would be no need for my life to change. I had things ordered the way I liked them now. Why should I let some aggravating and delicious nobody ruin that?

I didn't have to disappoint my mother. I didn't have to hurt my father either, for it would cause him pain as well. He was always so kind-hearted; causing someone like Earnest pain was truly inexcusable.

Where was Archie, I suddenly wondered? Hadn't he seen me killing Beau in a multitude of ways? Why hadn't he come to help – to stop me or help me clean up the evidence? Was he so absorbed with watching for trouble with Jessamine that he'd missed this much more horrific possibility? Was I stronger than I thought? Would I really not have done anything to the boy?

No. I knew that wasn't true. Archie must be focusing all of his attention on Jessamine.

I searched in the direction I knew he would be, in the small building used for English classes. It did not take me long to locate his familiar 'voice'. And I was right; his every thought was turned to Jessamine, scrutinizing her every move.

I wished I could ask his advice, but at the same time, I was glad he didn't know what I was capable of, glad that he was unaware of the massacre that I could have unleashed.

I suddenly felt horribly ashamed. How could I have been so close to killing twenty innocent people? I was determined not to let anyone in my family know.

If I could avoid Beau Swan, if I could manage not to kill him – even as I thought that, the monster writhed and gnashed its teeth in frustration – then no one would have to know. If I could keep away from his scent …

There was no reason why I shouldn't at least try to do the right thing, to be what Carine thought I was.

The last hour of school was almost over. I decided to put my new plan into action at once; better that than sitting here in the parking lot where he might pass by me and ruin everything. Again, I felt the unjust hatred for him. I hated that he had this unconscious power over me. That he could make me be something I reviled.

I walked swiftly – a little too swiftly, but there weren't any witnesses – across the tiny campus to the office. There was no reason for Beau Swan to cross paths with me. He would be avoided like the plague he was.

The office was empty except for the secretary, the one I wanted to see.

He didn't notice my silent entrance.

"Mr. Cope?"

The man with the sparse red hair looked up and his eyes widened. It always caught them off guard, the little markers they didn't understand, no matter how many times they'd seen one of us before.

"Oh," he gasped, looking flustered. He smoothed his shirt. _She's only seventeen_ , he thought to himself. _Can't think of her that way._ Wrong, of course; I was older than his grandmother. But according to my driver's license, he was right.

"Hello, Edythe. What can I do for you?" I saw a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek.

Uncomfortable. But I knew how to be charming when I wanted to be. It was easy, since I was able to know instantly how any tone or gesture was taken.

I leaned forward, meeting his gaze as if I were staring deeply into his small brown eyes. His thoughts were already in a flutter. This should be simple.

"I was wondering if you could help me with my schedule," I said in the soft voice I reserved for not scaring humans.

I heard the tempo of his heart increase.

"Of course, Edythe. How can I help?" _Oh, this is embarrassing_ , he thought. _I'm so glad she can't see it_.

Ordinarily I would have been repulsed by this all too typical male reaction. But in this particular case I was actually counting on it.

"I was wondering if I could move from my biology class to a senior level science? Physics, maybe?"

"Is there a problem with Mrs. Banner?" His cheeks were beginning to turn red. I forced myself to look away.

"Not at all, it's just that I've already studied this material …"

" _In that accelerated school you all went to in Alaska, right_?" His thin lips pursed as he considered this. _They should all be in college. I've heard the teachers complain. Perfect 4.0s and hundreds on every test – like they've found some way to cheat in every subject. Ms. Varner would rather believe that anyone was cheating than think a student was smarter than her_ … "Actually, Edythe, Physics is pretty much full right now. Mrs. Banner hates having more than twenty-five students in a class – "

"I wouldn't be any trouble."

 _Of course not. And I can't imagine anyone wouldn't want her in class_. "I know that, Edythe. But there just aren't enough seats as it is. I'm sorry."

"Could I drop the class, then? I could use the period for independent study."

"Drop Biology?" He raised his eyebrows. _How hard is it to sit through a subject you already know? There must be a problem with Rachel. I wonder if I should talk to her about it_. "You won't have enough credits to graduate."

"I'll catch up next year."

He hesitated. _I wish I could help her, I really do, but…_

The door opened behind me, but whoever it was did not think of me, so I ignored the arrival and concentrated on Mr. Cope. I leaned slightly closer, and held my eyes a little wider. This would work better if they were gold instead of black. The blackness frightened people, as it should.

"Please, Mr. Cope?" I made my voice as smooth and compelling as it could be – and it could be very compelling. "Isn't there some other section I could switch to? I'm sure there has to be an open slot somewhere? Sixth hour biology can't be the only option …"

I smiled at him, careful not to flash my teeth so widely that it would scare him, letting the expression soften my face.

His heart drummed faster, and he was acutely aware of his… I pushed the image out of my head, disgusted. "Well, maybe I could talk to Rachel – I mean Mrs. Banner. I could see if – "

A second was all it took to change everything: the atmosphere in the room, my mission here, the reason I leaned toward the bald, sweaty man …

A second was all it took for Samantha Wells to open the door and place a signed tardy slip in the basket by the door before hurrying out again.

A second was all it took for the sudden gust of wind through the open door to crash into me, making me realize why that first person through the door had not interrupted me with his thoughts.

I turned, though I didn't really need to make sure. I turned slowly, fighting to control the muscles that rebelled against me.

Beau Swan stood with his back pressed to the wall beside the door, a piece of paper in his hands. His eyes widened as he took in my ferocious, inhuman glare. It seems he'd finally learned to be afraid. But it was a little too late now.

The smell of his blood saturated every particle of air in the tiny, hot room. My throat burst into flames.

The monster glared back at me from the mirror of his eyes again, a mask of evil.

My hand hesitated in the air above the counter. I would not have to look back in order to reach across it and slam Mr. Cope's head into his desk with enough force to kill him. Two lives, rather than twenty. Fair trade.

The monster waited anxiously, hungrily, for me to do it.

But there was a choice – there _had_ to be.

I stopped breathing and fixed Carine's face in front of my eyes. I turned back to face Mr. Cope, and heard his internal surprise at the change in my expression. He shrank away from me, but his fear did not form into coherent words.

Using all of the self-control I could muster, I made my voice even and smooth. There was just enough air left in my lungs to speak once more, rushing through the words.

"Never mind, then. I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help."

I spun and launched myself from the room, trying not to feel the warm-blooded heat of the boy's body as I passed within inches of it.

I didn't stop until I was in my car, moving far too quickly the entire way there. Most of the humans had cleared already, so there weren't many witnesses. I heard a sophomore, D.J. Garrett, notice.

 _Where did she come from – it's like she just came out of thin air… It's probably just my imagination_ …

When I slid into my Volvo, the others were already there. I tried to control my breathing, but I was gasping at the fresh air like I'd been suffocated.

"Edythe? You all right?" Archie asked, alarmed.

I just shook my head at him.

"What the heck happened to you?" Eleanor asked, distracted, for the moment, from her future rematch with Jessamine.

I threw the car into reverse. I had to get out of here before Beau Swan could follow me here too. My own personal demon, haunting me… I swung the car around and accelerated. I hit forty before I was on the road, then hit seventy before I made the corner.

Without looking, I knew that Eleanor, Royal and Jessamine had all turned to stare at Archie. He shrugged. He couldn't see what had passed, only what was coming.

He looked ahead now. We both processed what he saw in his head, and were equally surprised.

"You're leaving?" he whispered.

The others were staring at me.

"Am I?" I hissed through my teeth.

He saw it then, as my resolve wavered and another choice spun my future in a darker direction.

"Oh."

Beau Swan, dead. My eyes, glowing crimson with fresh blood. The search that would follow. The careful time we would wait before it was safe to pull out and start over …

He winced but did not say anything. The picture grew more specific. I saw the inside of Chief Swan's house for the first time, saw Beau in a small kitchen with the yellow cupboards, his back to me as I stalked him from the shadows …let the scent pull me toward him…

"Stop it!" I yelled, unable to bear more.

"Damn," he muttered. "I never thought –"

And then the vision in his head shifted again. An empty highway at night, the trees beside it coated in snow, flashing by at almost two hundred miles per hour.

"We'll wait for you," he said encouragingly. "As long as it takes."

Eleanor and Royal exchanged apprehensive glances.

We were almost to the turn off onto the long drive that led home.

"Drop us here," Archie instructed. "You should be the one to tell Carine."

I nodded, and the car squealed to a sudden stop.

Eleanor, Royal, and Jessamine got out in silence. Archie touched my shoulder.

"You'll do the right thing," he murmured. Not a vision this time – an order. "He's Charlie Swan's only family. It would kill him, too."

"Yes," I said. Beau was all he had.

He slid out to join the others, his eyebrows pulling together in anxiety. They went into the woods, out of sight before I could turn the car around.

I accelerated back toward town, and I knew the visions in Archie's head would be flashing from dark to bright like a strobe light. As I sped back to Forks at over ninety mph, I wasn't sure where I was going. To say goodbye to my mother? Or to embrace the monster inside me? The road flew away beneath my tires.

A/N 2 – _Well there you have it. I wrote this story under the assumption that the reader had not read Midnight Sun, so if you have and found it too repetitive, I apologize. I didn't want to leave out any details (no matter how trivial) in my characterization of Edythe, while leaving her character consistent with her portrayal in Twilight Reimagined. Anyway, this is by far the longest chapter I've ever written, but I had a lot of fun. That being said, I don't know when I'll update this story, since I'm still working on Twilight Recalibrated. If you liked the story, feel free to review. Thanks for reading!_


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